The Shadow was terribly puffed up about his feat. The following morning
as we were sketching in the town, an officer approached respectfully.

"His excellency the Sirdar invites you to supper," he said.

We considered a moment, for we had intended to return to Plevlie. The
Shadow broke in.

"It is inconvenient to come to supper," he said to our horror. "Tell his
excellency that the gentleman and lady will come to lunch if he wishes
it."

The Sirdar meekly sent answer that lunch would suit him very well, and
we could drive back with him to Plevlie. "Would we come to his house at
12.30?"

The Prefect told us that we ought to go to the lunch at twelve, because
the Sirdar's clock was always half an hour fast. We arrived, but the
Sirdar evidently had been considering us, he did not appear for the half
an hour, so we sat with his staff sipping rakia by the roadside.

The lunch was excellent, but the Sirdar's carriage, like every other
carriage in Montenegro, was a weird, ancient, rusty arabesquish affair,
tied together with wire. We had two resplendent staff officers, armed to
the teeth, who galloped ahead, we had two superior non-coms., also armed
to the dentals, galloping behind, while on the box sat a man with gun,
pistols, sword, dagger and a bottle of wine and water which we passed
round whenever the Sirdar became hoarse. The coachman was as old and as
shabby as his carriage, and every five miles or so was forced to descend